Wizard: Unlimited Profession Slots Chapter 749 - 344: Chaos Adaptation_2

Ron delved into the profound impacts of this endeavor:

"Reduce rookie mortality rate, improve overall exploration efficiency, and possibly open up new directions for Abyss research..."

"But design is just the first step."

Ron methodically assessed the upcoming challenges:

"Material collection, actual manufacturing, testing validation... every step is full of challenges."

Once the design blueprints were sorted out, Ron shifted focus to future preparations.

"In a few days, I will meet Professor Yutel and visit the Master Sword collection..."

He outlined the subsequent steps in his plan:

"I can show this research result to the professor then, seeking his opinion. If we could conduct a pilot test inside the Observation Station first..."

The Abyssal Observation Station stands as the perfect testing ground.

Abundant resources for Abyss studies abound there, along with numerous novice explorers in need of training.

Verification of the technology's effects in this location would deliver robust data for the thesis.

"By piloting to obtain more data, perfecting the thesis content, and then submitting it to the academic review board..."

As Ron precisely mapped out the schedule, his inner excitement surged:

"Considering the innovation level and practical value of this research, it is entirely possible to publish in ’Deconstruction,’ or even..."

His mind wandered to loftier aspirations.

......

Three o’clock in the afternoon, deep within the Abyssal Observation Station.

These corridors appear more ancient than other areas, their walls constructed from self-luminescent living stone.

Vein-like patterns course over the stones' surfaces, throbbing faintly as Ron walks past, seemingly attuned to the visitor's feelings.

An age-old, enigmatic presence saturates the air.

No decaying odor lingers; rather, it's the profound weight of eons, reminiscent of unearthing a tome sealed away for millennia.

"Feels like traveling through history."

Ron advanced, scrutinizing his surroundings.

Ancient portraits adorn both corridor walls, the figures' gazes trailing the observer's every step.

Among them stand former station chiefs, legendary Abyssal Explorers, and enigmatic strangers utterly unfamiliar to him.

Most captivating looms an abstract depiction of a colossal entity.

Its form remains vague, yet it emanates crushing dread, quickening the pulse with a mere glance.

"That’s the ’Lord of the Maze’ from the Abyss."

Yutel’s voice rang out abruptly from behind, his silver specter manifesting without a sound:

"I once faced Him directly for certain reasons, thus I painted the related artwork based on my impressions."

Ron whirled to salute the veteran professor:

"Good afternoon, professor."

Yutel gestured casually, his specter form gliding onward:

"Come with me, the collection room is just ahead. The protective measures there are rather special, requiring my personal activation."

They reached a massive stone door at the corridor's end.

Devoid of handle or keyhole, its face bristles with intricate runes.

These runes comprise a dynamic safeguard array, perpetually shifting in form and hue.

"The way to open this door is rather unique."

Yutel clarified, pressing his spectral palm to the door's core:

"It requires recognizing my Void Remains essence, any other methods cannot pass.

This is to prevent the wills of those collections from affecting unsuitable individuals."

With Yutel’s contact, the door’s runes flared chaotically.

Silver arcs resembling lightning surged across its surface, accompanied by a low droning hum.

Shortly after, the ponderous stone door parted soundlessly, exposing the arcane chamber beyond.

The expansive circular hall segments into isolated sections, each cradling an ancient sword hovering mutely on bespoke pedestals.

Forged from pristine moonstone, these pedestals glow with soft silver radiance, enveloped in delicate energy shields.

"My collection isn’t large, but every piece is a masterpiece."

Yutel’s specter drifted to the initial pedestal:

"Let me introduce you to these old friends."

He halted before a longsword sheathed in perpetual frost:

"This is ’Frostbite,’ once belonged to Adrick, a Magic Swordsman from the ice plains."

A piercing chill radiated from the blade, infiltrating even through defenses.

"Adrick was a figure from two thousand three hundred years ago."

Nostalgia laced Yutel’s voice:

"During the famous ’Dark Battle,’ he froze an entire Corrosion army with this sword."

Ron subtly triggered ’Extraordinary Recognition,’ examining the energy currents encircling the blade.

In his enhanced perception, the sword resembled the epicenter of a compact ice tempest.

Innumerable minute ice shards whirled about it, each harboring lethal frigidity.

"May I attempt to touch it?" Ron inquired.

"You can, but be particularly cautious."

Yutel warned:

"’Frostbite’ is extremely sensitive in judging combat intent.

If it considers you insufficiently strong, it will unleash a freezing attack;

If it views you as lacking combat intent, it will attempt to forcefully impart Adrick’s Memories."

Ron drew a steady breath and gradually reached out his right hand.

Fingers nearing the hilt, a ferocious cold erupted suddenly.

Beyond physical frost, it chilled the soul, as though cognition itself froze solid.

Astonishingly, detecting Ron’s spiritual prowess, ’Frostbite’’s chill ebbed away.

A faint hum emanated from the sword, conveying tacit approval.

"Interesting."

Yutel witnessed the exchange:

"’Frostbite’ rarely shows such friendliness. It seems it acknowledges your strength."

Ron gingerly clasped the hilt, assailed by a torrent of potent insights.

Adrick’s embedded battle recollections flooded in:

Relentless Abyss skirmishes, savage clashes with Corrosion hordes, and the deathbed rage and reluctance.

Yet paramount was the blade’s masterful forging sensed within.

"High degree of Activation."

Ron dissected the sword’s architecture:

"It’s not just about Enchantment; this sword already possesses some form of life characteristic."

"Correct."

Yutel nodded approvingly:

"The true Master Sword will gradually ’Awaken’ during long-term use.

They’re no longer mere weapons, but companions with independent will."

Releasing the grip, Ron eyed the subsequent artifact.

This longsword appeared mundane at first glance, its hilt etched with countless names.

"This is ’Blood Oath.’"

Yutel’s voice turned grave:

"Its previous owner was Morgan, an avenger. He engraved the name of each enemy onto the hilt, vowing to kill them personally."

During Yutel’s description, Ron observed some hilt inscriptions in deep crimson, others in plain silver.

"The red names represent enemies already killed."

The elder professor elaborated:

"Each time Morgan completed his revenge, the corresponding name would be stained with blood. This sword records his entire vengeance journey."

Ron tallied the hilt’s names, noting at least thirty.

Most glowed red, a scant few retaining silver luster.

"Morgan took forty years to complete his revenge."

Yutel wove the melancholy legend onward:

"But the completion of revenge didn’t bring liberation, instead leading him to complete loss.

Without goals, Morgan eventually chose self-destruction, but ’Blood Oath’ preserves his obsession."

Upon reaching for the sword, Ron confronted overwhelming hatred.

Pure, scorching animosity blazed, akin to magma surging through arteries.

The sword’s spirit interrogated: Do you have enemies worth avenging with your life?

"This sword only chooses people with deep-seated enmity."

Yutel gauged Ron’s response:

"Without enough hatred, it will refuse cooperation.

But if the hatred is too deep, the holder might be consumed by the sword’s obsession."